


Office Depot

by Peccati



Series: Workplace Repository [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coran is the best boss, Flirting, Lance is a model, M/M, Photography, Pre-Relationship, Shiro just wants to live, Shiro works at Office Depot, almost-nudes, lance is a shit, lingerie model, model!Lance, office depot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 00:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12923100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peccati/pseuds/Peccati
Summary: Shiro just wants a normal day at work, but Lance is a shit.¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	Office Depot

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I have no clue. I really only ship klance and shance, but I've been on a shance binge and this wouldn't go away. I think it's the first I've written that doesn't have anything to do with school and is finished(!) in about a year?
> 
> Everything is unedited, so yell at me if you find something. I wrote this in like 2 hours on a road trip.

Who, in all seriousness, prints their skimpy photos at Office Depot?

Shiro just wanted to have a nice, normal day at work. He never thought he'd just want to deal with white suburban moms and their three screaming children or that creepy old dude who somehow kept getting pictures of young boys at the playground (he should probably call the cops on that guy, actually). But no. Shiro was gifted the most wonderful opportunity to print what most would consider nudes. He wasn't entirely sure that was allowed, but nobody ever reads the fine print, so it wasn't that surprising.

In any case, he arrived at the printing desk, surrounded by hulking machines that can churn out hundreds of photos, fliers, and book reports throughout the day. There were only a few flash drives in the little "To Be Printed" basket. Some people just dropped their flash drives off at the counter with a little filled out form with their contact information, but others had little green stickers, meaning they were priority and if you could please print these while I'm still in the store, thanks. Shiro grabbed the first green stickered drive, plugged it into his little desktop, allowed all that was on the drive to show up in his folders, right-clicked the file, and hit print. And so it went. For hours. And hours. And- oh, break time!

"Coran, I'm taking my break. I'll be in the back", Shiro spoke into the little microphone resting around his neck.

"Alrighty! Try and be back in fifteen or so minutes. We've only got to finish up these last two hours, then closing time!"

Shiro hummed absently before shuffling around the corner of the desk, heading through some of the more obscure aisles to avoid any potential customers. He dug his phone out of his pocket, pushing the swinging "Employees Only" door open with the back of his shoulder. Two missed messages...Keith sent him a snap...Ooo that webcomic updated...and a couple emails from Matt, subject lines: "look it's the good kush" and "giv me ur fackin money". The messages were from his therapist, asking hi how are you, are you still coming in Wednesday?. Yes, thank you, Debra, these past couple days have just been passing and yes, I will be there Wednesday to talk about it. The snap from Keith was a milkshake captioned "but where are the boys". Shiro huffed a laugh before responding with a casual picture of the employee lounge (a lovely beige room with a fridge from 1980, a microwave Shiro was positive had three different kinds of mold in and around it, thirty (30) different mugs, a box of Lucky Charms, and three and a half motivational posters) marked with the caption "won't work, we don't have a yard". He decided to look at the emails from Matt before spending his last ten or so minutes reading the webcomic. "look it's the good kush" was the receipt of an Amazon order for a bright yellow shirt with the word "COLLEGE" written across the torso. The next email was filled with exclaimation points at the top. When he scrolled down, Shiro was greeted with a screenshot of what was likely supposed to be a confidential email from what looked to be the FBI. It read, "Congratulations, Matthew W. Holt. You have been selected to continue training in the cyber warfare path. Based on your scores and continued- blah, blah, blah". Shiro didn't bother reading more; he knew he was going to hear an earful about it the next time he saw Matt anyways. He quickly composed an email in reply, subject title: "hacker voice: i'm in", and went about congratulating his long-time friend and scolding him for potentially making him an accessory to what was surely a crime of forwarding an email from the fucking FBI. Shiro got a quick text in reply. It read, "its okay i already deleted the evidence" and unfortunately, Shiro didn't doubt it.

Sending a quick glance to the clock above the counter, Shiro sighed in disappointment; he wouldn't be able to read that update. He rocked himself up to stand and made his way back to the photo desk. He nearly groaned at the sight of two new flash drives, both marked green. His hand flopped into the basket and drew out one of those usb's disguised as a food. This was a strawberry and Shiro did not look forward to the chipper blonde white girl that was likely attached to this. He went through the motions, plug, pull up, print, put in a folder. Well...he at least did the first three. When it came to the last step, he was a little- er, rather it was a little hard. In his hands were many glossy, high-quality prints of the most gorgeous, dark legs Shiro had ever seen. Ten different prints of ten different positions of ten different tiny, tight, tantalizing pieces of lingerie.

His face was bright red, he was sure, but for the love of God, someone had him print out their nudes! What the fuck! The seventy-five cent service wasn't supposed to be used this way! Like lead dropped from the top of his esophagus to the bottom of his stomach, Shiro remembered this flash drive was marked with a green sticker. These legs- I mean, this person was still in here. He was going to have to see them. In all honesty, Shiro wouldn't mind. This customer wasn't a girl, that much was obvious, which he could get behin- he could appreciate. Shiro bit his lip and peeked at the pictures again. The first was a simple side shot, one leg sitting comfortably at a ninety degree while the other lay flat. The lace covered just enough and the guy's back was arched slightly, pushing his torso forward and letting his head fall back enticingly. The photo was in black and white and heavy shadows obscured his face, but Shiro could at least tell his mouth was open in a faux gasp. Shiro let his eyes fall shut and he blew heavily - damn this guy was fucking hot.

The next two were relatively the same. The same guy standing at a window, naked except for these fucking panties, looking away from the camera dramatically. Shiro began to think the photographer just didn't know how to take a single photograph, like who leaves out what is obviously a gorgeous face what the fu-

"Excuse me?"

Oh look, there it is.

It felt like he was trying to breath through one of those coffee mixing straws. Not only was this face basically flawless, but it was attached to an amazing body _which Shiro had just been ogling via personal photos!_ Oh, he was in a load of trouble. But right now, blue eyes, a nose spotted by freckles, and a jawline sharper than the scissors Shiro really wanted to stab himself with were watching him expectantly.

"Uh, yeah?" What a fucking champ.

"I was wondering if my photos were printed?"

Oh lord aboard, this was going to be great. Shiro cleared his throat and turned around, trying to angle the photos so this angel wouldn't see what a creep he was being. He went over to the printer they had come from, thank god it wasn't in this guy's line of sight, and started shuffling papers around to make it seem like his photos weren't the ones he'd just seen Shiro handling. He left them there and walked back to the desk to grab a blue folder (wow this nearly matches his eyes) to carefully shuffle them into. As he was turning to go back, his eyes caught Mr. Gorgeous's and Shiro nearly dropped the folder. This sly motherfucking was smirking at him. Shiro knew he had been had when a delicate eyebrow was raised on his - fuck - perfect face and an innocent expression crossed his features. He could feel his eyebrows scrunching together and his lips purse at the unfairness of it all.

Why the heck had this guy obviously want him to see what he'd printed? As he started back, thoughts going miles a minute trying to figure what in the world was going on, eyes concentrated absentmindedly on the folder, Shiro accidentally hip-checked the printer, sending any and every piece of paper on it flying to the ground.

"Shit!" He scrambled on hands and knees to recover each paper, knowing what some contained.

He grabbed each photo with familiar legs and swept them blindly into a pile while he gathered the other photos and papers separately. He nearly slammed the miscellaneous papers onto the counter-top and dropped heavily to his knees again with the folder to more gently place the incriminating evide- Mr. Gorgeous' photos in one at a time. God, he should just shove them all in and throw them at Mr. Gorgeous for causing him this much pain and stress. To be fair, he barely glanced at the photos, he was mainly making sure they were all there, counting them one-by-one as they were slotted into the folder. As he came to Number Seven, his eyes caught on what looked like text on one of the photos, obviously edited on because _it was fucking comic sans_ (who is this guy?). It was ten numbers and the words "the name's lance call me", all lower space because if you're going to be a fucking meme you've gotta go whole ham.

All thoughts of _dear God he's perfect_ flew from Shiro's mind as fast as his head whipped up to again make eye contact with this- this- well, god sounded about right. His-Lance's face was stuck in a smirk that blew open to a full grin - wow - as his head was thrown back in a powerful laugh. When he looked back at Shiro, kneeling frozen on the floor with his mouth open and eyes wide, hands loosely gripping the photo with Lance's number, he winked and threw a single finger gun as he turned around and walked away.

Raising a hand in farewell, Lance parted with, "I'll pick them up tomorrow. Just send me a text when they're done!"

Oh, Shiro was definitely in a load of trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh if inspo strikes I might continue with a drabble or something idk..
> 
> In any case, leave your thoughts below. idc if they have to do with the fic, just talk to me :)
> 
> Edit: this is now part of a series, so we'll see how that goes..


End file.
